a reply to:
dfnj2015
I must first provide some definitions.
Confabulation is a memory error defined as the production of fabricated, distorted, or
misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world, without the conscious intention to deceive. People who confabulate present incorrect memories
ranging from "subtle alterations to bizarre fabrications", and are generally very confident about their recollections, despite contradictory
evidence.
. . .
Temporality theory
Support for the temporality account suggests that confabulations occur when an individual is unable to place events properly in time. Thus, an
individual might correctly state an action he/she performed, but say he/she did it yesterday, when he/she did it weeks ago. In the Memory,
Consciousness, and Temporality Theory, confabulation occurs because of a deficit in temporal consciousness or awareness.
It is possible that experiences of Déjà vu are instances of
temporal confabulation.
There is something about ATS that causes me to experience Déjà vu quite frequently, especially when it comes to poetry. So this should be kept in
mind while you read the rest of what I relate.
For a good portion of the beginning of 2013 I was bedridden, first with a serious illness, then surgery and recovery. I hardly spent any time on ATS
or online at all during that time.
But as I lay in bed I frequently imagined conversations with friends on ATS. In such a chat, a member shared a poem and asked what I thought it meant.
During the conversation I first thought "river's edge" meant the shore of a river. Later, in the course of conversation, it became clear that "edge"
meant a water fall.
Here is the poem, which is set to music:
soundclick.com....
Shortly after the conversation, I fell into a dream:
There was a path that went uphill toward a waterfall which was a rather much used spot for jumpers. The path was so well worn that you could sit on
the side and hang your feet down into the rut. I came upon a man doing just that.
"I'm resting. Could you help me to the falls?"
"Sure" I said.
"Could you help me stand?"
It was as I reached down with my right arm and wrapped my hand around his right side that I noticed the bleeding wound on his left side, just under
the bottom rib.
As we walked up the path; at times I was the helper and at other times I was the bleeding man being helped to walk. It got dark and we stopped to
rest. The top of the path at the falls was in sight.
When I got up after ten minutes or so and again went to help him up, it became apparent that he had died. I didn't have the strength or energy to
carry him so I reluctantly left him and proceeded to the top. Instead of turning to the falls I went down the path on the other side walking past the
people heading up from that side.
----
So yeah, something like that.
The poet didn't post that poem on ATS until 2016. The song was posted February of 2013, around the time of the imaginary conversation and subsequent
dream.
edit on 12-4-2019 by pthena because: (no reason given)
edit on 12-4-2019 by pthena because: (no reason given)